


Nothing But The Static (Between Heaven And Earth)

by The_Hunter_Nightingale



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Existentialism, F/F, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, No beta reader, This story gave me a Big Sad to write, but we aint dying like men, more like...crushed hopes and dreams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Hunter_Nightingale/pseuds/The_Hunter_Nightingale
Summary: She was tired of the cyclic life she lived. Tired of killing, of the blood, of everything.Tired of fighting for a cause that wasn't hers.This is something we know of 2B, perhaps all too well.This is something 2B knows about herself too, and she hates it.





	Nothing But The Static (Between Heaven And Earth)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the emotional roller-coaster that is NieR: Automata. My first adventure into the only game I've known to date that has successfully made me ponder life, the universe and whether living was even worth it.
> 
> The only game to make androids h o t
> 
> Also, please leave comments; they help to feed my soul...
> 
> ...or they would, if I had one :(

_No more…_

2E could feel it sometimes; crawling in on the edges of her vision, trickling through the visor she wore. Phantom error messages and warning flashes erupted in her vision to leave a single second later.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anyway; looking down she saw half of a Type-3 sword buried in her gut, blood and muscle lubricant flowing freely. Eventually it tapered off, her body’s nanomachines kicking into overdrive to seal it up, but the sword was stuck there until she could get to somewhere safe and sterile to remove it.

A glance to her left confirmed the sleeve of her outfit shredded, tatters drifting around her bare arm, of which had skin shaved, bruised and sheared from the metal muscle beneath. Her sword had numerous chips and slash marks dotting its length, the katana having seen more battle than she’d care to admit it had. It pained her to see such a sword chipped and ruined as it was, for its beauty had been a thing she’d carried into battle proudly.

It hadn’t been the only thing she admired about it though; her superior had once told her that the swords they carried each had a different story to them, each one had a different meaning. Each a tale that only their wielders could tell. Many in YorHa took pride in regaling their sword’s tales, in spinning a story for the newer Androids. Tales of valiant effort against hordes of machines, or for the Executioner types like her it was the number of androids it had seen slain.

_I’m so tired of this…_

Reaching up with trembling fingers, 2E slid the visor from her face. Bright blue eyes that held nothing but weariness, cheeks that had tracked enough tears down them to give her nicknames by the younger Androids.

Each one was as unflattering as the last.

An error message vanished, as quick as it appeared.

The tears didn’t come this time around. But how many times had she been doing this…? Too long, she ruminated, too long and she was far too old for this. Hundreds of years, thousands of bodies, hundreds of thousands of notches on her belt. Her sword was once a pristine white – she’d inquired with her Operator 18O once, and apparently the blade was as white as it was when she’d gotten it.

She was given a new operator – Operator 3O – after she’d inquired as to whether 2E was the only one that could see the red coating everything. Nothing bad happened to Operator 18O, of course. They simply wiped her memories and gave her a new android to operate for. Apparently it was a B Unit, and the Operator seemed rather happy with her role so 2E made no fuss about it.

Operator 3O was a little subtler when the two of them talked; using a secure channel instead of the standard YorHa communication feed they were _supposed_ to use. She was more understanding too, consoling 2E after a ‘job’ was done and even taking time off to simply be there for her when 2E arrived back at the bunker.

After this, though, she’d be lucky if her Operator even tuned in for their regularly-scheduled status reports.

_I can’t…this is – I can’t keep – no more…I need to stop – need to leave – can’t leave White – no she’d understand – god why? – the blood’s everywhere I - I…_

She sighed, the last tear rolling down her face, blue eyes covered by her visor once more. A screen in her visor opening to show the sombre face of her Operator.

_Emotions are prohibited_

That mantra attempted to override every and any thought she had, and before her pod could make a note of it her black box temperature returned to normal.

The error messages appeared more frequently.

“2E, I’m calling in for your status report on…on…E-Execution target 9S.”

_I can’t do this…it’s…_

 It was funny how well they got along, and yet 3O despised 2E’s job role and model. She despised everything 2E did, everything about her job and everything about her target. It was unfair to hate an android programmed for curiosity, and yet 9S had the horrible habit of becoming her execution target.

_Emotions are prohibited_

3O despised him for what he did to 2E.

2Edespised herself for what she continued to do for the sake of keeping Command’s secrets safe. For the sake of keeping YorHa safe. For the sake of keeping 9S from being permanently deactivated.

She hated killing, she wanted to simply live; 3O agreed with her but found it an impossible dream and reminded her of its implausibility at every opportunity.

_Emotions are prohibited_

“Understood.” She breathed in, steadying herself more than the requirement of oxygen. “Target is eliminated.”

3O shuddered through the visual feed, her face-mask hiding any tears or grimaces she may have been making. “Copy, I will relay the information to the Commander.”

There was a pause; 2E felt it drag on forever, but her internal clock told her it had only been two seconds. “The Commander seems to have some sort of soft spot for you, 2E.”

_Emotions are prohibited_

“Yes.”

“Is…there something I should know?”

2E blinked.

Was that… _teasing_? Did she just get teased by her usually stoic operator? What…when…she had no idea how to respond to that.

3O simply nodded, as though they’d had a full-blown conversation and was replying to something she’d just said. “I see…regardless, I shall relay mission completion to Commander White ASAP.” 3O was typing something into her console before a self-satisfied hum echoed through her ears. “That should do. You may return to the Bunker when ready, 2E.”

2E had no desire to return anywhere. She wanted to curl up into a ball and die, she wanted her body to rust as she hid away on some island somewhere, sit underneath a palm tree and just wait until her CPU ceased to function – until her black box overheated and self-destructed. She wanted to cry and scream and shout and _beg_ the commander to give her a passive job – refit her for Scanner work, or perhaps engineer duty. She’d prefer that over the killing that had become so commonplace in her life right now.

She was, however, a tool. A ferry for the hopes of humanity to return to the surface of the earth, a weapon to plough through the machine hordes, to destroy their alien masters, to save the dwindling society resting on the moon. Her only purpose was a weapon to be picked up, used, and hung up as a trophy when all was over.

_Emotions are prohibited_

So, 2E stared down into the lifeless eyes of the 9S Unit she’d _murdered_ , looked down at the blade in her gut, and only just realised something.

“He fought back…”

 _That_ has never happened before. A constant with 9S was his insistence in her calling him ‘Nines’. His attitude was always the same, with sarcastic remarks and witty comments, awful puns and an overall curious personage. This never changed.

Every time she’s killed him, however, has also been the same; except for now.

Because now, unlike all other ninety-six times, _he fought back_. Of course, she changed how she killed him each time the order was given, but each time he came back it was always unexpected. Tinted with the betrayal of killing a friend she’d come close to each time he was reset.

But he attacked her first…and with dawning horror she realised it was because he _remembered_ her.

* * *

 

She was assigned a new Operator.

6O.

She was cheery and only cared about the planet more than the mission, but 2E – 2B, she had to remind herself – was okay with that. It distracted her from her thoughts and she had a sneaking suspicion 6O knew what she was doing.

Talk of romance, of pretty flowers, of life…it reminded 2B of the good things and that, in itself, was never a bad thing.

Never.

6O was always in her ear; on missions, whenever she was resting, even whilst exploring the cheery, bubbly operator that was her opposite in every way was always talking about something.

Anything.

_Emotions are prohibited_

She wasn’t in her ear now.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I only remember rendezvousing with you…”

She didn’t hear the rest of it.

She didn’t.

Her fist clenched so hard it cracked and the gloves she wore groaned in protest.

The one time she wanted him to remember and he didn’t because he was _stupid and selfless and only thought of preserving her over him and…and…_

“I…I see…”

She didn’t see. She didn’t _want_ to see anything to do with 9S ever again; but each time she’d been assigned a new partner she yearned to hear his witty comments, or his stupid obsession with affirming things twice. She even began to like his pod unit, of whom had a dry humour that accompanied the 9S Unit perfectly.

“Glory to Mankind.”

Glory? Nothing was glorious about this; their human ‘masters’ were as elusive as their victories, perhaps even more so.

She wasn’t fighting for glory. She wasn’t fighting for mankind.

She was fighting for herself, for 9S, for her Operator 6O, for Commander White, for the Bunker, and her sparse friends, and…

…and she was fighting for a reason to stop fighting. As hypocritical as it was, it was all she ever knew – fight, kill, fight, die, wake up, fight…it was her life for hundreds of years.

She could tell none of this to the android in front of her, none of it to him; the way she dreaded even moving from her room, how pained she was at the thought of the cycle she’d found herself in, how much she just wanted to drop her sword and never pick its ivory form back up.

Instead, she saluted, her body shutting down her tear ducts to spare her the embarrassment – or maybe she just didn’t have the tears left.

“…Glory…to Mankind.”

_I tire of this…of this repetition_

* * *

 

2B could feel it sometimes; crawling in on the edges of her vision, trickling through the visor she wore. Phantom error messages and warning flashes erupted in her vision to leave a single second later.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anyway; looking down she saw half of a Type-3 sword buried in her gut, blood and muscle lubricant flowing freely.

Looking back up she ignored the glare of the sun burning into her now-red eyes and lifted a shaky, blood-stained palm to the defective A2 Unit’s cheek. She ignored how surprised the Unit looked, how devastated 9S would be.

She wanted to think for herself for once.

“Th-Thank…You-You…”

“2B…the virus hasn’t spread that far yet…”

She ignored the hope that crashed into her at those words, the hope that she could survive this ordeal and live sheltering 9S as YorHa fell. She ignored the hope that told her she could save this A2 Unit that was doing her such a kindness when they were enemies mere days ago.

Her pod was eerily silent. Good, the little thing annoyed her on the best of days.

She ignored the tears streaking A2’s scratched, burnt and chipped face.

Instead, she looked the Unit in the eyes and smiled – the widest she could, without limit or restriction.

“Take…c-care…of 9S.”

“I…I promise.”

The wind howled, whipping through the lengthy white hair of A2, and almost muffled the scream of pure agony and hatred that erupted from the S Unit she’d sworn to protect.

2B be simply looked at the sky, the sun not bothering her fading vision.

“Fi…nally…”

And she knew peace.


End file.
